


Who?

by Laramie



Series: Things you said [22]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Gen, Happy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7920655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy sees a new programme listing that he'd like to watch. Thomas isn't so enthusiastic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Radio of the Times

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to know anything about Doctor Who to enjoy these cuties being cute. But jsyk, all Who-related facts are accurate. Even the article Jimmy reads out is the genuine article (hurr hurr) that appeared in the Radio Times on 21st November 1963.
> 
> Note: this is not a crossover.

**21st November 1963**

Jimmy took himself for a short afternoon walk while Thomas had a nap. They had brought in a new manager for the clock shop and Thomas had been wearing himself out all week hovering over the man and making sure he knew what he was doing. Jimmy suppressed a smile as he wandered along the York streets; his silly old husband was 72 and he still hated to admit that they both had to take things gently these days. His only concession to such was that when Jimmy took his doctor-recommended walks to try to keep his heart healthy, Thomas would often remain at home to spare his unsteady legs. It was Jimmy's suspicion that Thomas quite often took naps while Jimmy was out, but Jimmy had never actually caught him asleep: he was always bright-eyed and moving the kettle to the hob when Jimmy got back home.

The streets were densely populated where Jimmy walked, mostly with housewives out doing their shopping and carrying loaves of bread, bags of groceries and babies in their arms. Hunching into his deep blue woollen scarf, Jimmy absorbed the chatter and bustle of those around him. He liked being in a crowd of people. Here in York, he didn't know most of those he passed - and was perfectly content that way - though sometimes he would recall seeing a certain face or elaborate hairstyle before, and more rarely he would run into a friend or acquaintance or former piano students' parent.

It was Thursday, Jimmy remembered, which meant the new _Radio Times_ was out. He headed for the newsagent to pick up a copy, handing over his sixpence and tucking the magazine under his arm until he got home.

For the first time, Thomas was still asleep when Jimmy arrived back. Their first-floor flat was calm and quiet, and when Jimmy peeked through the door of their bedroom, Thomas was breathing steadily in bed.

Jimmy left him there, retreating downstairs to the sitting room in which he had once taught young people to play the piano. The instrument was still there, and got occasional use when Jimmy had a mind to sit and tinker about on the keys. The focus of the room now, however, was the television set which resided in the corner next to the fire. It was faced by a two-seater settee and two armchairs, purchased a few years back when Jimmy had decided to stop giving piano lessons. This had afforded them more space in the room.

The television set had taken a lot of persuading on Jimmy's part before Thomas agreed that they could buy one; they were expensive, and rather frivolous, but Jimmy had been excited by the idea of watching films in his very own house and Thomas had eventually been swayed by the prospect of watching adaptations of novels.

Jimmy poked the dwindling fire and threw another log onto it; the flat was getting chilly. They had radiators, but both of them were fond of an open fire. Jimmy settled down in his customary armchair and opened his newly-acquired _Radio Times_ on his knee, looking for anything he and Thomas would want to watch next week. Lost in contemplation, he passed a pleasant hour examining the magazine.

By dinner time, Thomas still had not come downstairs, so Jimmy cut slices of corned beef and warmed chopped cabbage and leftover mashed potato in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. He hummed to himself as he stirred, a simple melody he had played many a time for the patrons at the pub when he had been working there. The scent of warm potatoes filled the kitchen.

After plating up, Jimmy went to fetch Thomas. He shook Thomas gently, calling: "Thomaaas… Thomaaas…"

Thomas stirred and looked up at Jimmy, a smile decorating his lined mouth. "How long've I been asleep?"

"A couple of hours. I made dinner; come down and eat before it gets cold."

"Okay." Thomas took Jimmy's hand and kissed his ring, before getting up to follow Jimmy downstairs.

They ate, as usual, at the dining table in the kitchen. Jimmy brought in the _Radio Times_ and pointed out a few programmes he thought Thomas would like.

"We should watch this _Dr Who_ thing, too."

"What's that?" asked Thomas.

Jimmy flicked through to page seven, where he had seen a feature on the new programme along with a large photo of William Hartnell. "' _Dr Who_?'" Jimmy read, hastily swallowing a mouthful of mashed potato before he went on. "'That is just the point. Nobody knows precisely who he is, this mysterious exile from another world and a distant fu-'"

"Hold on," Thomas interrupted. "Is this a sci-fi?"

"Yeah but it sounds interesting - just listen. '…a distant future whose adventures begin today.' Well, Saturday. 'But this much is known: he has a ship in which he can travel through space and time - although, owing to a defect in its instruments he can never be sure where and when his 'landings' may take place.'" Jimmy looked up excitedly for Thomas's reaction to this, thinking it an unusual twist on space travel.

"Hmm." Thomas brought a forkful of corned beef to his mouth and chewed ponderously. He didn't look convinced.

Jimmy scanned the article for something else to entice him, because he had rather wanted Thomas to watch it with him. "It's got William Russell in," he cajoled.

"Who?"

"You know, that actor who was Lancelot."

"I don't remember him."

"Yeah, you thought he was handsome and said you were going to go off and be a knight around all those sweaty young men with swords."

Thomas screwed up his face in thought. "I remember the programme…" he said uncertainly.

"Oh! And he was Hamlet last year! You _must_ remember that!"

"Oh, _him_!" Thomas said suddenly, his expression clearing as he realised who Jimmy was talking about. "Ooh, yeah… He was alright. Wouldn't mind watching him for, what, half an hour, is it?"

"Yep!" Jimmy confirmed, pleased to have won Thomas over. "So make sure you're back for quarter-past-five on Saturday; I want to watch it with you."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**23rd November 1963**

Nobody could have known what would happen between that Thursday evening and the beginning of _Dr Who_. US President John F. Kennedy was assassinated on the Friday. The whole world seemed stunned, though it didn't take Jimmy's mind too far off the day-to-day of washing up and making the bed and listening to his favourite records.

Thomas arrived home at 5pm, as he had promised. Jimmy resisted the urge to tell him to leave the poor manager alone and let him get on with running the clock shop without interruption. He knew Thomas wouldn't listen, and would give the man space only when Thomas was ready; it was hard to win Thomas's trust. When he heard Thomas's stick clunking up the stairs, Jimmy lit the gas ring under the kettle.

"Wow," Thomas said, when he joined Jimmy in the kitchen. "You're making _me_ tea for once." He slipped his arm around Jimmy's waist while Jimmy spooned tea into the teapot.

"Never say I never did nothin' for you," Jimmy responded. "How's Mark doing?"

"Oh, settling in. He seems to have his eye on Lily."

"The Saturday girl?"

"Mm."

They stood in companionable silence while the kettle boiled and Jimmy finished making the tea. There was a lifetime of unspoken understanding in their silences.

The tea made, they took their mugs into the sitting room, settling themselves on the settee while Jimmy turned on the television in time to catch the last couple of minutes of _Grandstand_.

The new programme began with the strange hissing and whining of the theme tune, played over odd, pulsating white shapes on the black background.

"This is weird," Thomas said flatly.

Jimmy elbowed him and said nothing.

The theme faded into the image of a policeman, dark and indistinct amid thick fog. The eerie theme went on in the background, and Thomas reached for Jimmy's hand. Jimmy understood: policemen were unnerving enough for men like them, without a television show making them out to be so creepy. They both breathed a sigh of relief when the action moved to a school, especially when William Russell's character made an appearance.

"Ey, there he is, look," Jimmy said, nudging Thomas again. "Your bit on the side."

"Oh, hush," Thomas retorted. " _You're_ the bit on the side. He's my one true love."

Jimmy gaped at him, affronted.

Thomas smirked. "You're _so_ easy." He squeezed Jimmy's hand and slurped his tea.

"You're terrible," Jimmy told him, returning his attention to the screen. "Anyway, you've got competition: I'm _sure_ these two teachers fancy each other."

"He is, of course, distracting attention. It's really me he loves."

"Can't love you as much as I do."

Thomas seemed too distracted by the programme to reply.

William Hartnell's character arrived, a mysterious old man with a crotchety attitude.

"That's you," Jimmy said.

"That's not me!"

"'Course it is. Grumpy old get, white hair. 'Syou."

"You're very rude."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**28th December 1963**

"I'm just not in the mood to watch anything right now."

"But we have to find out what that _thing_ was!" Jimmy begged.

"Oh come on, it's my birthday! We can find out what it is in the next episode."

Jimmy pleaded with his eyes, a trick that rarely failed since he saved it for the most important moments. " _Please_ can we watch it, Thomas?" he said quietly. "It's only half an hour. Then I'll make you the best dinner ever, promise. There's even apple pie."

Thomas gave a deep sigh, and relented at last. "Fine, we can watch _Doctor Who_."

Jimmy grinned. "I always knew we were meant to be."

Thomas raised an eyebrow at him. "You certainly did not. Come on then, before we miss it."

They took their places in the sitting room. Jimmy drummed his fingers on Thomas's thigh in time with the baseline of the theme tune, and then they watched Barbara backing against a wall in terror of an unseen menace.

It was several more minutes before they got a proper look at the things: squat, metal machines which spoke in grating voices and brandished sink plungers. The lack of humanity in them was disturbing.

"That's you," Jimmy said, pointing at one of the machines.

"Shh," Thomas said, his eyes fixed on the television.

When William Russell declared: "My legs… I can't feel my legs!" Jimmy remembered a battlefield, and shuddered.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**21st March 1964**

"This one's getting boring," Jimmy complained. "I just want them to get the bloody Tardis back and get going now." He crossed his arms and watched grumpily, before pointing at the plotting character of Tegana. "That's you." The comment earned him a smack on the arm.

"I would have got caught by now," Thomas said grudgingly.

Jimmy turned to him. "We could always try something more _interesting_ ," he suggested, indicating Thomas's crotch with his eyes.

Thomas thought about it for a moment. "I think I'd rather have a cuddle, to be honest. Is that alright? Feels like too much bloody effort these days, no offence."

"Okay," Jimmy agreed, not at all put-out, and turned to wrap his arms around Thomas, his head resting on Thomas's chest and his legs across Thomas's lap. He closed his eyes as Thomas began to stroke his back, and was asleep before the credits rolled.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**11th July 1964**

Strange, humanoid creatures in bald caps with wisps of hair around their ears. Flat faces and skin-tight, almost featureless costumes. Nearly halfway through the serial, Jimmy suddenly sat up straighter, pointed at the weirdest creature on the screen, and said, "That's you."

Thomas gave Jimmy a death stare that said quite clearly that if they had been younger, Thomas would just have tackled him.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**29th October 1966**

"I don't like it," Thomas said bluntly. " _Hartnell's_ the Doctor. You can't just change him for somebody else and expect everything to carry on the same."

"You didn't even want to watch it when it first started," Jimmy pointed out. "Why don't you just give it a chance and see how the new guy is?"

"This show went downhill after William Russell left," Thomas grumbled - he considered the character Ben a poor substitute for William Russell in terms of appearance. But he made the complaint only quietly, and made no further protest as Jimmy tuned them in to the fourth and final episode of _The Tenth Planet_. Throughout the course of the story, Jimmy had already told Thomas that he was an exploding spaceship, a crewmember, and a cyberman.

They did not speak much while they watched, though they kept nostalgically saying: "Aw…" at odd moments when they remembered that Hartnell was departing.

Hartnell's final moment came in the last seconds of the programme. The Doctor stumbled into his Tardis and fell to the ground, his face glowing and dissolving and changing into a much younger, dark-haired man.

"Good trick," Thomas conceded. "He looks rubbish, though. He's too young."

Jimmy turned to him, grinning hugely. He pointed at the new man lying on the Tardis floor and said smugly: "That's you."

 


End file.
